The Gilded Hour
by LJ Summers
Summary: Written for FACELESS GIRL for the Sparkling Citrus Secret Santa Gift Exchange. High-profile matchmaking can get complicated when you're a vampire. AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: My thanks to Faceless Girl for allowing me to share this. She told me I got the Danish right. Whew! ;-)**

* * *

"_Vent et øjeblik_!"

Jasper heard Edward's shout and politely waited a moment for his counterpart to catch up with him. But only a moment. "_Engelsk_!" he hissed over his shoulder as he started walking again. "We don't want to impede traffic or draw attention to ourselves."

Edward winced. "Sorry. I know. But this is New York. It's not as if Danish is uncommon in such an international city. It's not like we're speaking Klingon."

The two men paced with smooth rapidity through LaGuardia, their carryon bags hanging securely from their shoulders. In all respects unremarkable save for their model-perfect looks, they still garnered several stares. "Klingon?" Jasper muttered, knowing the other man would hear him. "What the hell is Klingon?"

Edward made an impatient sound. "_Star Trek_. It's how true_ Star Trek_ fans know they're part of the group."

"And you're a _Star Trek_ fan?"

"A Trekkie," Edward corrected with some quiet dignity. "Yes."

"Wonderful. Just don't tell her first thing. I don't want to ruin this."

Edward compressed his lips. "Mary Alice always knows best. She knew about me," he confessed, as if to some hidden religion. "I am sure that my...hobby...won't cause a disruption in the...arrangement." He ran a pale, nervous hand through his ruddy brown hair. A learned gesture and so characteristic of him that he did it without thought.

The taxi ride was undertaken in apparent silence. In truth, the driver was convinced his fare was a gay couple and he hoped for something – anything – along the lines of what the Americans called a PDA. Public Display of Affection. He had a secret addiction to gay porn and thought it would be amazing if something happened in his cab.

There was a great deal happening in the rear seat, but the driver was ignorant of all but the most blatant of the happenings. It was just as well. Both the men were vampires and the driver was a primary variety of prey.

_Remember, Isabella of the Boston Swans is older than any vampire you've yet met,_ Jasper thought purposefully at his protégée. _She's never even consented to consider a mating before. Only Mary Alice's reputation has persuaded her. _

Edward nodded, tapping in Morse Code to Jasper – a vampire who was changed during the American Civil War – _I know this. I will not embarrass you. Isabella has the right of refusal and I will not contest her decision._

Mating, for vampires in the twenty-first century, was complicated. So many of the cold immortals had built up such fortunes in their lifetimes on earth that some of the relationships began as business deals. Mergers. Jasper Whitlock and his mate, Mary Alice, were facilitators of these matings. The high-profile variety.

_Now remember not to react to her thoughts. Don't assume to know what she's feeling either; that's my department and she is counting on my veracity to signify that this will be a true mating. _

_I know_, Edward tapped with near silent impatience. _I am not a newborn_.

* * *

_If I were human, I would be sweating_, Edward tapped on Jasper's arm as they rode up the elevator at 4 East 89th Avenue, adjacent to the Guggenheim Museum and just off 5th Avenue. It was, in all of Edward's research, a good address. Pre-war, the website said, he hoped it was a place Isabella felt at home.

He wondered if she were uneasy. As uneasy as he was. He had met Mary Alice quite by accident. Well, he'd believed it was an accident at the time; she had since shown him that her decision to travel to Denmark for the architecture had led her immediately to a vision of himself.

He was standing on a balcony with the night sky behind him, speaking earnestly with a petite woman of vampiric beauty and grace of movement. Her eyes were not visible, but the curve of her cheek, the draping of her dress and the lustrous fall of her hair had definitely captured Edward's attention as he saw them in Mary Alice's mind.

_I know her_, Mary Alice had then thought to him. _Her name is Isabella and she is in New York City_. Then, Mary Alice of the knowing eyes reached up and cupped Edward's face in smooth palms before speaking aloud. "She's been waiting for you."

_Relax. I can already catch the scents of others of our kind_, Jasper advised. "All right? We're here," he continued out loud. This was Edward's cue to remember not to respond like the reader of minds that he was. Jasper knocked on the paneled door and Edward did a quick mental inventory.

_Gift? Ja._

_Ring? Ja._

_Portfolio on my BlackBerry? Ja._

This was, after all, to be a financial as well as relationship merger. Isabella controlled much wealth, accumulated through her centuries of life. She had had a series of human business managers, but the last one in the genealogical line had died and she was hesitant to trust someone new.

Edward, on the other hand, managed his own interests, visiting with his brokers and picking their brains. Thus, he'd done very well with his financial interests with a limited number of years. Only fifty, really. He was quite young.

The door opened and, instead of the beauty he had been expecting, Edward found himself being greeted by a tall Ancient.

_This is the one? The scarred one? He has a sharp eye and strong lines; he would do..._

"Welcome. Mr. Whitlock?" he asked, eyeing Edward with distant courtesy. "Right on time, we thank you. I am Marcus of Volterra," he went on, with a hand flat on his chest before Jasper could do more than lift a brow. "Do come in."

"I'm Edward Cullen," Edward said before accepting the invitation. "This is Jasper Whitlock, Mary Alice's mate. The Empath."

_Oh, so you're the Mindreader?_

Edward nodded.

Jasper looked beyond the dark-haired, brooding figure into the filtered light of the room beyond. "May we come in now?" he inquired, his slight American Southern accent lilting his voice.

In future years, as the decades rolled over and under him, to the left and to the right, Edward Cullen would keep the next hour shining in his memory. Not that he forgot anything, but _this_ was a gilded hour.

Her scent struck him – freesia, lilacs, musky sweetness – seeming to spiral in from every part of his body to bloom in his chest, middle and groin. Then, she rose from a black leather chair and he drank in the sight of her. Just as in the vision from Mary Alice, Isabella was petite, delicately curvaceous, graceful. Her eyes startled him. They were golden. Under straight, thin brows, they shone with guarded welcome. Her porcelain skin was expected, the black dress clinging beautifully to her, over the barest rounding of her hips and down her thighs.

Edward felt every muscle in his body tightening and he hoped with each cellular structure that Isabella would consent to be with him. He already felt lost in her eyes. Golden eyes. How did she do that? Contact lenses?

He reached to her mind with hesitation. Desperately, he wished to know her deepest thoughts so he could please her. He was frightened of her possible rejection with a power that surprised him.

_Calm down!_ Jasper mentally shouted. "Isabella," he said audibly. "It has been a long time. My wife sends her best wishes."

"I am sure she does, Jasper Whitlock."

Her voice captivated Edward and he felt himself swaying lightly before getting a firm grip on himself.

_Young, so young. - _Marcus

_Careful! - _Jasper

And nothing whatsoever from Isabella.

"This is Edward Cullen," Marcus said in the tones of formal introduction. _Young. But he's staying silent so perhaps he's not foolish._ Energy crackled in the air as he regarded the space between Isabella and Edward. "If you two would shake hands, I can better judge the bond."

"What?" Jasper blurted, his usual smooth demeanor ruptured. _I didn't know about this. What the hell is she thinking? Isabella _will_ be hearing from my Mary Alice about this._ "I mean, I just wasn't expecting this."

Edward could not tear his eyes from Isabella as she arched her brow. "Did you think I would rely solely on your word, Mr. Whitlock? I believed strongly enough in Mary Alice's vision to invite Mr. Cullen here, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to seek an expert of my own."

"You're an Empath too?" Edward wondered, briefly touching Marcus' traditional dark-burgundy gaze.

_I see relationships, Young Edward. So come, touch Isabella._ At Edward's shocked, embarrassed expression – the emotion of which made Jasper almost giggle, but he turned it into a snort at the last moment – Marcus' lips twitched. _Shake hands. Impetuous boy._

Isabella waited, her expression serene though her eyes glowed from within. "Well? Am I that terrifying?"

_I can't hear your thoughts and that is terrifying, in a way_. "No, Isabella. Not at all."

She extended her hand. He accepted it with both of his.

_Oh_. The sudden, encompassing jolt was a physical thing as much as it was emotional and even spiritual. Isabella's eyes widened with a sudden snap. The pressure Edward felt on every centimeter of his skin was amazing. His stony flesh felt as if there were an effervescent warmth moving just around the upper layers before sinking deep inside of him. He still could not hear her thoughts, but he felt utterly comfortable with that. If this were truly the way a mate bond felt, he was going to be able to spend eternity with a peaceful mind. A calm woman who would leave him the quietude of his own thoughts.

He could kiss her feet. And he would. If she let him. Every toe, her instep, the curve of her heel, up her Achilles tendon... His mind flew, imagining how she would taste, how she would smell as he inched up her legs.

_This is the strongest mate bond I have ever seen. Astonishing._

Edward acknowledged that with a sparse nod; his attention was all for Isabella. He stepped nearer to her. She closed the gap, her eyes still wide with astonishment and darkening with desire.

_Edward, you lucky dog. The two of you are so wrapped up in such a complicated haze I can hardly see you. Can you even hear me? Bet you can't. Bet my Mary Alice had this so right that you can't even think straight. I remember how it was..._

Edward didn't even bother to nod at Jasper. He tuned out his sponsor's thoughts entirely, heeding only the confirmation he received from Marcus.

Isabella took a moment to skim her hands up his arms and he put his arms around her so that they were almost dancing, there in the quiet of her home.

"I'll just leave the paperwork on your dining table, Isabella," Marcus murmured with a smile clear in his voice.

Jasper cleared his throat like any human would at such a moment. "I'll leave Mary Alice's paperwork there, too, Isabella. Edward."

"Edward..." Isabella whispered.

"Isabella..."

"I've waited for you a long time," she admitted with a voice that sounded relieved, fulfilled and happy. He couldn't remember anyone sounding that happy in his presence before. "So long..."

"I feel almost like I cheated," he confessed, pulling her more tightly against himself. In the background, he heard Marcus and Jasper speaking about leaving the new mates alone "for an hour or so." Papers rustled, steps crossed over floors of wood and tile, the heavy front door opened and closed and soft laughter sounded on the other side of it.

Isabella seemed not to hear nor care. "Cheated? How. We've never met before today."

"I haven't had to wait nearly so long."

She smiled. At him. His dead heart seemed to pulse inside his chest. "Let's not keep me waiting any longer, shall we?"

"_Aldrig igen_."

"Hm?"

"Never again."

Slender, nimble fingers plowed through his hair, full lips slid along his jaw, fragrant breath wafted over his skin. Edward kept his eyes open as he turned and moved and bent to claim her lips with his.

* * *

"Oh, there. Yes..."

"This would go much easier if I could read your mind."

A soft laugh. "Marcus said you could do that. Not mine?"

The bronze head lifted, dark burgundy eyes meeting darkening amber. "Not a whiff of a thought."

"Hmmm...good." She rolled over to him. "Close your eyes..."

* * *

Hands. Lips. Tongues. Panting building up to groans and shouts and one long, hoarse scream.

A low voice. "I love being a vampire."

"Oh, me too. Just now, this is everything."

"Again?"

Something thudded, something cracked. A bell-like moan. "Ohhh...now... Right...ahhh, yessss..."

* * *

The sun set. Darkness flooded the room. They barely noticed. The sun rose and a light laugh was once again heard at the front door.

"Isabella?"

"Go away, Marcus."

"Edward?"

"You heard my mate."

"Mate...I never knew it would be like this."

* * *

Outside, Jasper and Marcus signed their names to a congratulatory note and slid it under the door.

"If they're anything like Mary Alice and me? They won't be coming out of there for at least a week."

"Only a week?" Marcus' smile managed to be proud, sad and reminiscent all at once. Jasper felt the emptiness that hovered over him. "My Didyme and I spent a full month under a waterfall..."

It took the entire flight back to Copenhagen International Airport for the two men to share all their stories. And now they each had one more to add:

_The incredibly strong mate bond of Edward Cullen and Isabella of the Swans._


	2. ComicCon

**A/N: With my thanks to those folks who enjoyed the oh-so-light and oh-so-sweet one-shot I wrote for Faceless Girl, here is a follow-up.**

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* * *

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The setting sun over Manhattan glinted strikingly on Edward's skin, sending up an explosion of peach-tinted rainbows that hit the plate glass and the ceiling. Isabella traced the exquisite cut of his nose, the tantalizing invitation of his lips and watched his fingers move with mysterious precision over the keys of his BlackBerry – all with her eyes. She would never grow tired of her visual surveys, she believed. Especially when he was just a bit undone from business attire. She found the lack of tie but the presence of the dress shirt and trousers to be most appealing.

He felt her languid inspection, undoubtedly, and smiled as he made a final tap to the small keys in his hands before sliding the device into a pocket. "What has you looking so pleased with yourself, my love?" he asked. His grin was topped by eyes that were growing gradually lighter. Adapting to her animal-blood-only diet had not been easy for him, but he was trying. Because he had hated, he said, to see her saddened when he came home with crimson irises. Just now, his expectant gaze was a darkish brown. Quite attractive with his pale skin and vibrant hair.

"These are for you," Bella said with a smile, waving a white box under her mate's chin. Her mate. That he was her _mate_ still amazed her. Alice had not disappointed.

Edward slid the box from her hand and caught her body against his own, kissing her soundly on the top of her head before sliding his lips to her skin and tracing the line of her face. "Hmmm, _these_ are for me, too," he reminded her before claiming her lips with his.

**. . .**

_Mary Alice Whitlock had practically vibrated in excitement, though her words were almost prosaic. "Isabella. I have found the man I believe to be your mate."_

_That the petite woman had communicated this without fanfare only solidified the veracity of it, to Bella's mind. "A _man_? A _human_...?" she had inquired, looking at Mary Alice via the webcam. "That seems...unlikely."_

_Mary Alice had rolled her eyes and tossed up her hands. "No! He's one of us. Younger than you, but he manages a tight portfolio."_

_"Do you have a picture?"_

_Mary Alice held up an eight-by-ten glossy that looked as if it were used by a movie studio. Rakish hair, a jaw that could cut granite, piercing burgundy eyes, and lips that made Isabella moisten her own just to look at them._

_She hadn't said a word before the mate-finder bounced in earnest, causing her laptop in Denmark to bounce as well. "Jasper will bring him and this will be amazing!"_

_**. . .**_

Well, it had been. Not just the physical bonding but the joy she had found in the vampire that was her true mate. He made her laugh, respected her opinions and, of course, managed her finances in such a way that was already bearing fruit. Subtly, but still.

"So...what's in the box?" Edward murmured under her ear.

She shivered with the sensation. "Why don't you open it and see?"

He grinned and let her go just enough to employ both hands at the ribbon that was the box's only wrapping. "_Nå da, min dejlige makker, jeg vil_."

Bella was still learning Danish. "What?"

His talented fingers untied the bow. "Well then, my lovely mate, I will," he said in translation. And he did.

Isabella waited and was not disappointed.

His jaw dropped open and he practically incandesced in obvious delight. "_Fremragende_! Just what I always wanted!" Two plastic-coated cards were in his hands. "Passes to ComicCon in San Diego! I love you!" he shouted, loudly enough to rattle windows.

Bella laughed and kissed his jaw as he stared, eyes wide and laughing, at her gift to him. "As soon Mary Alice told me you were a Trekkie, I had to get these."

If possible, his face lit up even more as he whispered, "You're a Trekkie, too?"

She smiled, thrilled once again that hers was the one mind closed to him. "You'll have to wait and see my costume."

"Cosplay! You do cosplay?" Edward said, picking her up and spinning her around the living room, careful not to hit her head on the overhead lighting fixtures. She kissed him, he dropped the passes to the sofa, and they were lost in one another for the next twenty hours.

No costumes were used in this form of play.

[=+=]

"No, I'm not showing you until we get there," Bella informed Edward as they packed. In separate rooms.

"I can hear sliding fabric. Sounds like polyester." She heard him chuckle. "Mine's got a great deal of latex."

"Latex? Sounds...questionable, Edward."

"You won't recognize me."

Bella grinned at her white gown and patent leather boots. "Oh, you'll recognize me. I guarantee it."

"Are you wearing something from the original series?" he asked, sounding as enthusiastic as a boy.

Isabella chuckled herself. "It's from the original," she assured him. _Episode IV, A New Hope_. She wasn't going to tell him which series, after all. Even if she was learning Klingon, it didn't mean she was dressing as one. "So have you been to something like this before?" she wondered conversationally.

"No, but I've watched coverage on the Internet. What about you?"

Her grin was fierce, as she poked her head out the bedroom door to share it with her mate. "Oh, yes. We'll be there for four days, and most everything is indoors. There're skylights in places, but the light's diffuse, so we shouldn't have a problem."

"I won't have one anyway. My skin doesn't show."

Interested, she flashed to his side. "Oh?" He held up a breastplate. "Of course you're a monster," she said with a delicate snort.

[=+=]

"Close your eyes," Isabella insisted. In the South Tower of the San Diego Marriott Hotel and Marina, she had already helped him into his costume. They had partaken in some quick "cosplay" of their own with her as the helpless human before the might of a Klingon Warrior.

Isabella loved playing with her mate. Indeed, her existence had been far too serious before Edward entered into it. She checked her appearance in the bathroom mirror, picked up the blaster she had bought at the last Con she had attended, smirked at her reflection and joined Edward in the bedroom.

Posing with all due effect – she did enjoy this, truth to tell – she did her best to look like Princess Leia did in the corridor standoff against the storm troopers in _Episode IV, A New Hope_. Her own lush hair in the famous "cinnamon roll" style, a white gown that covered her from neck to ankle and – because she liked being authentic – minimal undergarments. "All right," she said, making her voice Leia-husky, "you can look."

The enormous Klingon on the hotel bed – with ridged forehead, ample nylon wig, a long mustache and the heavy breastplate and brown-cloth costume all the way to the clunky boots – opened his brown-lensed eyes and gaped. "Leia!" Then, he rose to his feet, towering over her even more than usual with the heavy footgear and head-piece. "I thought you were going to show up as, oh, a Trekkie, too?" He stared at her costume, walking around as she posed for him.

"Oh? They show a lot of skin, those First Generation Star Trek uniforms, you know."

Edward smiled, the expression strange on his latex-coated features. "Well, you could have gone with Seven of Nine." His voice was suggestive, sexy, intimate.

She shivered. Even through the contact lenses, his eyes burned for her. Her body responded, predictably, and he pulled her close.

[=+=]

"Oh wow! A Klingon and Princess Leia!"

"Oh, man! I gotta get a picture. Can you...?"

To be mischievous, Bella and Edward embraced one another in front of camera-toting convention attendees. Flashes were making the pavement bright even before the sun was in the sky.

"I totally can see someone writing a crossover story."

"That would be awesome!"

They were the odd couple of the pre-dawn hours. Unlike other badge-on-lanyard wearing folks, they hadn't brought any food or water, but no one seemed to notice. Upon gaining entrance to the enormous, plate-glassed building, Isabella's chief amusement was in watching her Trekkie mate contain his enthusiasm for others of his proclivities. The two of them were invited to participate in a parade and each had numerous photo opportunities.

They were even interviewed.

[=+=]

That evening, after the doors to the Convention Center closed for the night, the two of them walked back to the Marriott. Hardly the only ones doing so in costume, they were content to hold hands and maneuver carefully through the thronging masses of humanity out looking for Chinese take-out or a plate of pasta.

Once in their tower suite, Isabella put out the Do Not Disturb sign on the hall-side of the door. Edward, still practically bouncing – quite a difference from the urbane financier she met months ago – set aside their bags of souvenirs ("What? It would look odd if we were not purchasing things," he has protested when she laughed at him.) and wrapped her in his arms.

"This was the second-best day of my entire existence, my love. My mate."

"Second-best?" she teased, entangling herself as closely as she could around him.

His hands skimmed her body over her costume. "The best was that gilded hour in which we met."

She lifted a brow at him. "I can hardly remember," she claimed loftily. "I suppose I should peel you out of the Klingon façade so you might remind me?"

She did and he did and the wet trail that led from the bath to the bed dried completely before her memory had been fully "restored."

**The End**

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**A/N: Thanks for reading! **


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